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Updated: July 12, 2025
I passed into the lofty apartment, its walls lined from floor to ceiling with well-stocked book-shelves, and found the worthy knight seated in his own particular old easy-chair, with one foot ominously swathed in flannel reposing upon another; his specs on his nose, and the gazette in his hand.
To all appearances she was the unlikeliest woman possible to cherish criminal intents, yet her answers were rather clever than convincing, unless you allowed yourself to be swayed by the look of her beautiful face or the music of her rich, sad voice. "You did not remain before these book-shelves long?" observed the coroner.
Thinking of something I wanted to say to him before he went, I left the gentlemen looking over the book-shelves, and went to cross again to the drawing-room. But when I reached the door, there stood at the top of the stair, Adela and Harry. She had evidently just said something warm about the story.
The three other windows formed arched niches, apparently cut through the book-shelves; and in one was a comfortable knee-hole desk, containing all the paraphernalia of a literary worker; while in the others were the most seductive of reading-chairs, with book-rests attached.
Thus with no more mental interruption than the two-minute break in time, the Senior Surgeon then resumed his bitter-thoughted pacing. At nine o'clock, however, patroling his long rangy book-shelves, he sensed with a very different feeling through his heavy oak door, the soft whirring swish of skirts and the breathy twitter of muffled voices.
The study was an oblong room, and on one side book-shelves rose almost to the ceiling. The opposite wall, between the windows, was covered with paintings, and several statues stood in the recesses near the chimney. Over the low marble mantelpiece hung a full-length portrait, shrouded with black crape, and underneath was an exquisitely chased silver case, containing a small Swiss clock.
Suddenly there was a sound, and, as Mary thought, the book-shelves opened. She saw light through the opening. A tall boy came in, whistling, and pulled up short as his eyes fell on her. He was about her own age, or a little older. Mary never forgot in after years the kindness and friendliness of his face as his eyes rested upon her. He came forward slowly, putting out his hand.
Buncombe knew nothing and cared nothing; his own domestic affairs were giving him more than usual anxiety just now. 'I didn't think he was fool enough' thus only he replied to Mrs. Handover's anxious questions. Alma surveyed the book-shelves, and took down volumes with an air of interest; she looked over a portfolio of photographs, inspected mementoes of travel from Cyprus, Palestine, Bagdad. Mrs.
"They are rare, even there: and I have never seen them in any other part of the world. I am nearly sure but I have a book of Indian Botany here " He took a volume from the book-shelves, and turned the leaves with trembling fingers. "Yes! Compare it with this picture! It is the exact duplicate!
"All glamour," he repeated to himself, and then aloud to me, "and as for Bassett's cottage, it was burnt down three years ago, and nothing stands there now but broken, roofless walls " He stopped because I had seized him by the arm. In the shadows of the lamp-lit room behind him I thought I caught sight of dim forms moving past the book-shelves.
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